Finally Home
by belladisordine
Summary: It's been eight years since the last time you saw Murphy. Will he still stir your blood the same as before? WARNING: Contains smut


Prologue...

You know, it's funny.

They say if you love something, let it go. If it comes back to you, it's yours right? But if it doesn't, it wasn't meant to be? But what they don't tell you is how long you should wait for it to come back.

Eight years. That's how long I've waited for him to come back to me.

Do you have any idea how much changes in eight years? For one thing, you get older. Maybe not wiser because hey, if I was wiser I would be married now. Perhaps with a couple of kids. Living the American Dream you know? I certainly would not be tending bar at McGinty's, still trying to teach Doc the proverbs he can't quite get right. And I still would not be watching the door every night hoping beyond reason that a certain pair of twins would walk in like it was old times.

I definitely would not tear up every time I heard The Blood of Cu Chulainn. That stupid Irish song that that blue-eyed devil spun me around the floor to that one ill-fated 's Day night. I would still not wake up in the middle of the night, hearing his voice, smelling that intoxicating mix of whiskey, cigarettes, and whatever it was that was one hundred percent Murphy Macmanus.

And without a doubt. I would not still be irrevocably in love with that bastard.

's Day... Present Day...

Emma huffed out a breath as she carefully stacked more cases of beer onto the dolly. It was 's Day, and the bar was busy. She didn't expect anything less given that it was probably the only Irish Pub in Boston, but what she hadn't expected was for Claire, the only other bartender here beside Doc, to call out. They all knew how hard 's Day was for her. Any maybe it was stupid, but that was where it all began. The beginning of the end of her love story. She NEVER worked 's Day and they damn well knew it.

She heard the sound of the door closing behind her. The only door from the outside to the inside. The one you needed a key to access. She figured it was Doc. What she did not expect was the all-too-familiar voice that came to her next.

"Need help there then lass?"

Emma whirled around. That was the voice she had waited eight long years to hear. The voice that was obviously in her head.

"S'matter lass? Ye look like like ye've seen a ghost"

The smirk was enough to simultaneously set her blood to boil as it did send heat through her body. Standing there bold as brass was the one man she had spent eight years failing to forget.

"Murphy?" Oh how she hated the way her voice broke on his name.

"Aye lass," he said with a grin, "Tis me"

Emma stepped forward, her hand outstretched as though to touch him. Then without warning, she brought her hand back, connecting her palm solidly with his cheek.

"How DARE you," she hissed. "Eight years I have waited for you. Worried for you. And you just show up NOW?" she knew her voice was rising, just as she knew she should control it, but at the moment, that ability was beyond her control.

To his credit, Murphy didn't flinch when she struck him, "Do ye think it hasn't been tough on me as well lass?" he said softly. "I spent eight years supposing ye was married"

"AND I SPENT EIGHT YEARS THINKING YOU WERE DEAD GODDAMMIT!"

"Lords Name lass."

"Don't you fucking smirk at me Murphy Macmanus!" Emma nearly screamed.

"I am sorry lass," Murphy replied, "I did ask you to come with me"

"And you knew full well I couldn't because of my mother. She was dying Murph.. and after..." a tear slid down Emma's cheek, but she didn't bother to wipe it away, "After I didn't know where or how to find you."

"I am sorry Emma, but you know it was not safe"

"I know it wasn't, but that doesn't mean I've stopped loving you, you Irish asshole."

At her declaration, Murphy took a step back, the surprise clear on his face. "You.." he swallowed, the uncertainty plain to see. "You still love me?"

"Yes"

"So ye would not object lass, if I came and kissed you then?"

"No, Murphy, I would not."

He made short work of closing the gap between them, cupping her cheeks with his hands before lowering his mouth to hers.

"Murph," she managed to whisper in the space between them as he pulled away.

"I love ye Emma," came his reply. "I have always loved ye."

"I know."

Suddenly impatient, Emma pulled back enough to look into his eyes, "I need you Murphy Macmanus. I've always needed you."

"As I've needed you lass," Murphy responded, moving his lips to her neck, taking his time to familiarize himself with the taste and texture of her skin. His hand ran up her thigh, his fingers brushing along her slit before sliding deftly into her, suddenly thankful for the short skirt she was wearing.

As his fingers reached her center, she ran her hand through his hair, tugging lightly. "Remind me," she murmured, as her other hand slid to his pants, swiftly undoing his belt and popping open the button on his jeans. "Remind me that I am yours"

As hard as he was, Murphy needed no more encouraging. He paused only a moment to tug down his pants before he lifted her up, her legs instinctively wrapping around his waist, before he pulled her panties to the side and entered her in one fluid movement.

"Murph," she moaned, her head falling back, having missed the feeling of him, of this.

"Emma," he echoed, beginning to move within her, keeping his strokes steady for the moment. He knew he wouldn't be able to stay gentle for long. He had missed her too much. Had been celibate too long.

"Harder," Emma demanded, her fingers sliding under his shirt to scour across his skin.

"T'would be me pleasure lass."

It could have been minutes, it could have been hours, but all too soon for her liking, Emma's head hit the wall as her inner walls clenched around him It wasn't long before she felt him empty himself into her, her name leaving his lips on a prayer-like whisper.

"How long are you staying for?" she managed to ask as he slowly released her, her legs sliding shakily to the floor.

"As long as it takes lass." came the reply. Neither of them needed to clarify what he wasn't saying.

"Long enough to meet your son?" Emma whispered softly. "It has been eight years after all..."


End file.
